


Anywhere Will Do

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff [23]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sleepy John, Sleepy Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock doesn't sleep for days until suddenly the sleeping bug bites him with full force at a crime scene.</p><p>"Sherlock? Sherlock, why are you lying down?"<br/>"Mmmh... sleep...."<br/>"At least lie next to the corpse, not on it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere Will Do

John wasn't ashamed to admit that he was knackered. In fact, he proclaimed it loudly for every officer at the Yard to hear. “Not all of us can run on zero hours of sleep in two days, Sherlock!”

“Of course, John. Whatever you say.”

Sherlock was now crouching down by the corpse, he examined it briefly, going as far as to sniff it. Just before he could lick it, John grabbed him by the curls and yanked his head away. “Nope. Not after that blue stuff last time. You were vomiting for days.”

“You're nothing but mean,” Sherlock grumbled.

He looked around intending to glare at any Yard member he could spot. There wasn't any around. It was like Greg had cleared them away.

“You don't need an audience,” John told him.

In actuality, most of them were downing bitter, over-brewed coffee in an attempt at staying alert. They were all exhausted. Donovan had even been too knackered to trade proper insults with Sherlock. As he turned around to see what Sherlock was up to he spotted him laid out across the corpse.

“God dammit Sherlock!”

Greg, hearing John's exasperated shout, came running up. “Sherlock?! Sherlock, why are you lying down?” He turned to John. “What did he taste this time?”

“He didn't. I stopped him.”

The detective, barely aware of what was being said around him, mumbled out, “Mmmh... sleep....”

The DI threw up his hands. “At least lie next to the corpse, not on it!”

“Mmm, boring.”

“God, Sherlock, we're all tired and you're… he's asleep,” John turned on the DI. “What a bloody moron!”

Greg looked about to be sure they weren't being watched, then he snapped a photo. As he pocketed his phone he gave John a resigned look. “Well, lets get his nibs off the evidence and into a cab.”

He grumbled and moaned as he was moved.

“Sherlock,” John started. “Get your arse up and we can go home.”

“Noooo…”

“Bloody hell, but he weighs more than he looks,” Greg complained as they hefted the sleeping detective to his feet. “I suppose there must be a lot of muscle under these suits of his.”

“Mmm. He barely eats and he sleeps even less.”

“Would you care to explain, why the no eating, sleeping man is so heavy then?”

John barked a laugh. “Sheer obstinacy. He can't be arsed to make anything easy on us.”

Together, they propped him up against a panda car. “You know what,” Greg stated, “he doesn't deserve a cab. Let's put him in the back of the police car.”

The detective jerked awake.

“What? I was deducting.”

“Deducing and no you weren't,” John corrected.

They pushed him into the back of the car.

“Waking up doesn't automatically mean you get a cab. Get in, John I'll drop you both back.”

Sherlock's face was plastered against the far window, his cheeks and lips dragging against it humorously. Sally saw it and tried to snap a photo, but wasn't fast enough.

John collapsed and rested his head against the headrest. “We may...” He yawned. “Have to leave him on the steps to sleep.”

It wasn't Sherlock they had to leave in the car or even on the steps when they pulled up. It was a half hour drive and Sherlock was wide awake at the end of it.

“I'm in a cop car, why?”

“Because you fell asleep, you donut.”

“Then why is John asleep too?”

“Because you've dragged him across all of bloody London for two days, you git. Now help me carry him upstairs.”

Sherlock pouted. “He's had thirty minutes to sleep. Just turn the car around, Gavin. We can pick up where we left off.”

“Not happening. Now you pick your boyfriend up or I will.”

That made Sherlock move, he ran around the car and opened the door catching John's head as he did. He scooped the doctor up and made to the flat.

“Open the door, Gavin.”

Greg made as if to kick the detective in the bum, but didn't lest he make him drop John. “You know, not all of us are hyperactive twats. Some of us actually need our sleep.”

“Yeah, well, me too.”

“Half an hour does not count, you prick,” he opened the door and pushed it open. “Now get him to bed and I don't want to hear from either of you for 12 hours.”

“Gavin,” the detective whined.

“Sherlock,” the DI whined back in imitation. “I mean it.”

“That's not fair.” Sherlock stomped his foot, jostling the doctor.

John groaned. “Not tonight, babe,” he groaned, “'m too tired.”

“Come on then, little boy, lets get you up to bed.”

“That's my line,” the doctor grumbled.

“I mean it, Sherlock,” Greg called up the stairs after him before he closed the door.

Sherlock took him all the way to their room and tucked him into their bed. John pulled him down on top of him and hugged him like a teddy bear as he fell asleep.

Sherlock groaned as the need for sleep reasserted itself.

“I should carry you up the stairs more often, John.”

But there was no response. Just a soft, contented snoring. A snoring that lulled Sherlock to sleep as well. Corpses could wait.


End file.
